


letting go isn't giving up

by gottalovev



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek announces he's leaving Beacon Hills (again!) for college, Stiles doesn't take the news very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	letting go isn't giving up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightfog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfog/gifts).



It's been a good night, the ones Stiles prefers. They'd discussed pack business earlier, nothing going on; it's been quiet, perfect for the Holidays. Then watched Wayne's World for at least the 5th time in the last six months. Scott never tires of it and they can quote the whole thing, which is hilarious. Derek, who's the master of dry wit, has spent the evening making Stiles laugh. That's common, too. When they hang out as a group, it's not unusual that the two of them will stick together, running a commentary on whatever is going on. Over the last year, after coming back from his brief road trip with Cora, Derek has mellowed a lot. He helps Scott when he's asked and slowly integrated the group, even though he keeps to himself most days. Stiles loves how easily they banter and, if asked, he'd say that Derek Hale is now one of his closest friends.

Stiles is trying to juggle three remotes - key word: trying - when Derek purposely clears his throat. Since he rarely speaks a word out of place except for werewolf business, it immediately gets everyone's attention. 

"I spoke with Scott earlier, but I just wanted to tell everyone that I'm going to move to San Francisco soon. For school," he says. 

For a moment the room is completely silent. Stiles, for one, has problems processing the idea: he's leaving? For good? Derek looks completely relaxed, but Stiles knows him, there's a certain set to his shoulders that screams of nervousness; he's afraid of how they'll react. After a beat, the living room explodes with questions.

"School?"

"In what?"

"Really? Wow!" "Where exactly?"

Those are all things Stiles needs to know _right now_ , but the one question he asks is: "When? When are you leaving?"

For some reason, it's towards him that Derek turns, his question that he answers first, looking at Stiles in the eye.

"I'm leaving in a week."

***

To say that Stiles takes the news badly is an understatement. It's not that going away for school is bad; that's great, he plans on doing so himself next fall. No, what grates is that it's the first time he's hearing about it. Stiles leaves minutes after Derek's announcement and drives home while getting more and more upset. He wants to scream, rage, hit something. Obviously it's something important for Derek if he's ready to leave the pack and go on his own. Then why keep it a secret?

Stiles changes into loose gear and his sneakers when he gets home, and he immediately leaves again for a jog. He runs faster and longer than usual: exertion is the only thing that will help him sleep tonight, if he can do it at all. His breath makes steam in the crisp December air, and Stiles wishes he was a fucking dragon and could breathe fire instead, to make everything burn like the ball in his stomach. Fucking Derek, throwing his world upside-down, out of the blue; it was going so well. Back at the house, Derek is sitting on the porch steps, and the anger reignites in Stiles' belly again.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles spits out. 

Derek stays seated. "I thought we could talk," he says calmly. 

"Talk? What about? Could it be that there's something big I haven't heard about?" Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Normally Derek would roll his eyes at Stiles acting like a big baby (Stiles is conscious he's doing it; he just can't stop because he's furious), but this time he doesn't.

"I'm sorry," Derek says instead. "I should have told you first, but I didn't know how."

It’s worse that he looks sincere. With his stupid face and his ridiculous eyes. 

"It's not hard!" Stiles says, throwing his arms in the air. "Let me demonstrate," he adds, making puppets out of his hands and having them hold a conversation. "Hey, Stiles, I've been thinking about going back to school!" he mimes with one, then the other answers: "Really? That's cool! What's the plan?" The first one again. "I'm abandoning you next week, that's about it!"

"Ah, come on," Derek says, standing up and raising his voice. "This is why I didn't tell you, okay? I didn't want you to be upset for nothing if it didn't work out. But then everything straightened up, and here we are."

"Well, fuck you. I thought we were friends," Stiles says, still too angry to have a filter. 

Instead of riling Derek up as those arguments usually do, he visibly deflates. 

"I thought we were, too," he says. He has the gall to look hurt. "I even thought you might be happy for me."

That does shut Stiles up, and he helplessly watches Derek turn around and walk to his car.

"Goodbye, Stiles," he says, not even looking back. 

It sounds like a door closing, and Stiles' words are all jammed in his throat. 

He's unable to answer.

***

"Have you talked with Derek?" Scott whispers, mid English class. 

Stiles has to give it to his best friend, asking the question now makes it hard to avoid answering. Yes, Stiles has been a stubborn ass about the whole thing and is ignoring the issue like a champ.

"No. And I won't," Stiles grits through clenched teeth. 

"I don't get it," Scott says with a sigh. "You guys have been thick as thieves for months, and now it's like you hate his guts all over again."

The thing is, Stiles doesn't hate Derek, not at all, and it's clear that Scott knows that. It's probably the reason why he's been pushing Stiles to go talk to Derek all week. Instead, for days now, Stiles alternated between deep hurt and self-loathing, too stubborn to take the necessary steps to fix this. 

"You know," Scott whispers again, "no matter what, he's leaving. On Saturday, I think. Which is tomorrow." 

That hits Stiles right in the solar plexus. Ignoring the facts won't fix them, and all that he managed to do is let six days go to waste. The next moment he’s stuffing his notes and books in his bag like a man possessed, trying to ignore Scott's relieved expression. He flees the class without an explanation, to Mr. McLeod's exasperation.

Stiles drives to Derek’s apartment building like a bat out of hell, parks half on the curb, and he's running for the door when he sees Derek pulling out of the parking lot (in a very loaded car, in fact, so Derek is leaving right now). Stiles changes directions and – counting on Derek’s reflexes – literally jumps in front of the car, arms extended. Tires screech, and for a second he wonders if this is the way he’s going to die, since he also should have factored in that tons of metal do not stop on a dime. It’s fortunate that Derek wasn’t going fast: the car just hits his legs, and the two of them are left looking at each other with wide eyes through the windshield. Until Derek storms out of the car to yell at him, that is.

“What the fuck, Stiles! I almost ran over you! Are you stupid?” He’s vibrating with anger, so much so that Stiles is surprised there are no fangs.

“Yes, I’m stupid!” Stiles cries out in return. “I’m a complete self-centered moron, okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Derek.”

That diffuses Derek’s anger, at least. He comes over, now looking worried.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as Stiles sits down on the hood, legs a bit jelly-like. 

“It’s nothing,” Stiles answers in relation to being hit, because if he says he’s fine, it’s going to ping as a lie (Derek is leaving; of course he’s not okay).

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Derek says. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles repeats. “For that, for everything. I’m an asshole.”

Derek sighs and moves into the V of Stiles legs to bring him into a hug. Head against his chest, Stiles winds his arms around Derek’s middle to hold on tight.

“You are an asshole, but I understand. I could have handled the telling you part a lot better. I’m sorry about that.”

 _No, you don’t understand, not everything,_ Stiles is tempted to say. This whole mess has forced him to face the root of the problem, which is not about being hurt because a friend is leaving and how he decided to announce it, but that he’s hopelessly in love with Derek. Stiles is trying to be a good person, so instead of selfishly confessing his feelings and begging for him to stay, he says what he believes from the bottom of his heart.

“You are amazing and deserve nice things. I’m honestly so happy for you.”

Derek squeezes a little harder and Stiles even feels a kiss on his head.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me,” Derek says, voice rough. “And don’t be such a drama queen, San Francisco is not that far.”

“You’ll come visit?” Stiles asks, letting go slightly to bend back and look at Derek.

The look on Derek's face is so fond, Stiles’ heart is breaking in two. He’s going to miss him so much.

“Of course. And I’d appreciate if you guys planned supernatural takedowns on the weekends, if possible,” he adds with a smirk.

Stiles laughs, though it hurts a bit coming out. “We’ll do our best, college boy.”

“You’ll be fine,” Derek says as he cups Stiles’ face gently. “Call me anytime.”

Stiles cannot resist turning his head to kiss Derek’s wrist before he goes back into the hug like a koala.

***

At first, Stiles can pretend that everything is roughly the same, just with less in-person Derek time. Derek comes back for weekends regularly and they talk or text almost every day. Scott, being the good friend that he is, tries to make more time for Stiles. But then schoolwork kicks in for the both of them, and Derek, for one, sounds absolutely swamped. He just jumped back into 4th year geology classes after a 2 year break, and it frankly sounds overwhelming. Derek starts making the trip to Beacon Hills less often, and the calls and texts space out, too. Stiles doesn't feel like he's imposing when he does call; Derek always sounds happy to hear from him, but there's never enough time. 

Before Stiles knows it, it's April, and he's got a decision to make for his own college future. He received a lot of positive acceptance letters - some with full rides, too - but the one from San Francisco State University is like a magnet. He's opened and read it so many times, the fold creases are starting to be well used. His father, always observant, finally pokes at the unspoken elephant in the room.

"Why don't we go visit the place, and pretend the sole reason for your interest in that particular college isn't Derek Hale?" he asks.

"Hey!" Stiles protests, because he doesn't like to be called on his questionable life choices. "They have a very good Criminal Justice Studies program, I'll have you know."

"Uh huh," Dad says, not impressed. He sighs. "Look, you're an adult now, and free to make your own mistakes. But you've got to think about your future, and you can't make that decision based on where your current obsession lives."

Which… is full of truth. But SF State is, also, a great option as school goes. Maybe not as impressive as some of the others ready to welcome him, but still.

"The brochure looks great! We _could_ visit," he says, trying to find the interested-but-not-too-eager tone. It fails, judging by the all-knowing look on his dad's face.

***

If they want to visit properly, they need a tour guide, right? And who better to help than a good friend who happens to go to said university! Again his dad makes the face: it was probably the most predictable move ever on Stiles' part. Scott also had rolled his eyes so hard when he'd mentioned the visit casually that Stiles had worried he'd sprain his neck. 

Nonetheless Stiles and his dad end up meeting Derek outside his place, a two-bedroom apartment he shares with a roommate. 

"Hey, hi!" Stiles says, going for a hug that Derek returns easily, then shakes hands with Stiles' father. 

"Hi." Derek does look happy to see them. "So, ready to have a look around?"

"It's very nice of you to show us the campus," Stiles' dad says. "I know Stiles might not have properly phrased it like a favor you'd do us, only if you have time."

Derek chuckles. "I was given a day and time."

"Hey, that's not true!" Stiles protests. "Did I do that?"

"It's fine," Derek says. "Why don't we start right now? Let's take my car; it's going to be easier to park."

To be perfectly honest, Stiles hoped to see the apartment. He'll admit to more than one fantasy where Derek would throw his roommate out for Stiles, or at least offer to do it. It's not quite what happens. The visit goes well, and Derek smiles in all of the right places. He assures Stiles that he would like it here, and shows them around like the perfect polite gentleman he can be (especially around Stiles' dad). But it's peppered with little comments like, "this would be one of the best places for housing; you should apply ASAP if you are really considering SFSU", and "lots of nice places to eat for someone who lives on campus", and it doesn't take Stiles a diagram to understand that Derek doesn't want them to live together. He's even actively trying to prevent it from happening. It's a blow, and it forces Stiles to face the cold hard truth: his crush is totally one-sided. 

After the tour they go back to Derek's place, which is bittersweet, but Stiles' curious nature takes over. He can't snoop too much - Derek would hear from the kitchen where he's chatting with his dad - but Stiles peeks in the roommate's room. Adam is away for the weekend, and that's a bummer because Stiles hates the guy irrationally and would have appreciated meeting him to either dispel the feeling or better focus on it. By the quick look at his room, Adam is a messy person: it looks like a storage space, with stuff piled here and there, even on the bed. Knowing Derek's obsession for tidiness, Stiles can't help a smirk. Hopefully that grates enough that Adam and Derek don't become such BFFs that he forgets his _real_ friends. 

Stiles leaves San Francisco in a crisis: all of the daydreaming about possibly getting together with Derek seems pointless because it is clearly not going to happen. Back in Beacon Hills, though, a cold analysis of his acceptance letters still leaves SF State as a top contender. Scott is going to stay in Beacon Hills working with Deaton and doing online classes, which takes him out of the race to be a possible college buddy. Stiles would like to go away with someone from the pack, but he doesn't want to move out East with Lydia because it's too far from his dad. Isaac is taking a break year, and Allison has something planned in France, of all places. It does leave Derek, who is, first and foremost, his friend. Heck, they've never been more than that. Stiles just needs to get over his stupid feelings. 

San Francisco State it is.

***

That summer, Derek doesn't come back to Beacon Hills. He’s been working with one of his geology professors on the start of his Masters, which is… an opportunity that Stiles can't begrudge. Yes, Stiles is working on accepting things in an adult fashion, thank you very much. His own shit is ready - college, yay! - and he cannot wait to move to San Francisco in two weeks. 

He has it all planned out: he'll aim to hang out with Derek a little, but his goal is to make cool new friends too, so their time together won't be just out of pity for the poor freshman. Distance and time - and mantras, several times a day for 4 months - helped Stiles reach the acceptance stage about his crush, and he's not going to make things weird. He's a fucking pro at pining, after all. And hey, it's college! Stiles plans on living it up and getting laid. How's that for a cure?

Derek shows up for movie night that Saturday at Stiles' place, which is a surprise for everyone. They'd talked earlier in the week - their Tuesday night call is a tradition at this point - and Derek hadn't mentioned his plans to drive up. In fact, he'd told Stiles about a hike he was supposed to make to see rocks god knows where, and he'd seemed pretty excited about it. He's silent and broody all through World War Z, as if reverting to the Derek Hale of 2011, which is a sure sign that something is wrong. The mystery thickens when, at exactly the right time to make everyone jump out of their skins, Derek's phone rings. He mumbles an apology and vaults the couch before getting out of the house. 

Stiles hears Derek curse perfectly, but that's all the info he gets with human ears. After a few minutes, Derek comes back, looking dejected, and slumps back down on the couch. After the movie credits, Scott catches Stiles‘ eyes and tilts his head towards Derek, who's so lost in thought he hasn't realized everyone but him is leaving.

 _Adam?_ Scott mouths silently on his way out. _Make him talk!_

Stiles nods. He's got this. But to be perfectly honest? He's freaking out. There are not that many reasons why Derek would be this bummed after talking with Adam. Could it be that they are more than roommates? Derek never implied anything about it, and once again Stiles feels as if Derek’s been hiding something huge. They talk often, surely there could have been an opening to mention it? Or did Derek keep quiet once again to spare Stiles' feelings? (which would be exponentially more embarrassing if he did it because he is aware of Stiles' unrequited crush). 

As soon as they are alone, Stiles sits on the coffee table in front of Derek and bumps his knee with his own to get his attention. Derek snaps out of his mood as if he's waking up.

"Lost you there, for a while," Stiles says.

Derek rubs a hand over his mouth and nods. "Yeah, sorry." 

"Roommate trouble?" Stiles asks. 

"You can say it like that," Derek says wryly. Stiles' stomach drops, because that's almost an admission there was more, right? He wonders if it's his place to pry when Derek continues. "He left. Called to say his key was in the mailbox."

"Oh." Sounds like trouble indeed, though the little green monster that had awakened at the idea that Derek had a boyfriend does a fist pump. Stiles is almost ashamed. "You sound surprised. He didn't warn you?"

"He warned me, all right, but I didn't think it was this bad," Derek says, looking over Stiles' shoulder as if he's miles away. Then he scoffs. "Fuck him. Good riddance."

"That's the spirit!" Stiles says, shaking one of Derek's knees. "Anyway, I'm sure he was a douche. Guys named Adam often are."

He says that just to make Derek smile and it works, at least a bit.

"You know what? He kind of was," Derek agrees with a corner of his lip turning up.

Stiles should have thought before talking, but it's like the words drop from his mouth already strung together for maximum potential awkwardness.

"If you need a new roommate, I know someone," Stiles says.

It's a testament to how much Derek is distracted that he doesn't get it. 

"Really?" he says, obviously miles away.

Stiles makes a face, because even if he wishes he hadn't said it right now, he's not subtle at all. It dawns on Derek who goes from confused to shocked.

"You?" It hurts that Derek physically recoils a bit and shakes his head. "I don't think -"

"Why not?" Stiles asks, because his pride is hurt now. "I'd make a fabulous roommate."

"Don't take it badly, but there's a difference between starting college and where I'm at, Stiles," Derek says, treading as carefully as he can.

"You think I'm going to turn into a frat boy and party all the time?" Stiles asks, eyes narrowed. 

Derek rolls his eyes. "It isn't an insult. Partying is part of the experience. I did it. I'm just over it now."

"And if I promise no parties at the apartment and to keep decent hours most of the time?"

"You have never kept decent hours since I've known you."

True, that was a weak argument. But there's a shimmer of a hope that he could live with Derek - platonically, and without being weird, he swears - and it makes him deliver a cheap shot. 

"Pretty sure I'd get better grades while living in a calm apartment than in a dorm, anyway. I'm planning very loaded semesters because I don't want to leave my dad on his own for too long."

Derek opens his mouth, presumably to protest, but then closes it. He looks heavenwards, breathes out, but then back at Stiles.

"You know what? Fuck it. Why not, come stay with me. We'll find a way to make it work."

He could say it while looking a little happier about it, but Stiles doesn't care. 

"Yesssssss!" He fist-pumps, which does make Derek chuckle. 

_Just wait and see, Mister Hale,_ Stiles thinks, proud that he lifted Derek's mood a bit. 

He'll be the best roommate ever. Platonically and with no weirdness, guaranteed. 

***

Stiles has to fend some very knowing looks from his dad - and Scott -, but moving in with Derek becomes a reality. He takes Adam's old room after Derek insists on repainting it, and frankly, it's going great. Stiles wasn't lying about his loaded semester, and a week in he's frantically color-coding his planner for the mountain of work he'll have to turn in or he'll forget something. Derek has his own classes and research, plus he's got a TA job on top. 

It was delusional on Stiles' part to think that his crush on Derek would abate while living with the guy. It's not that Derek parades around showing skin; he sadly doesn't. Instead Derek endears himself to Stiles by the way he changes into threadbare soft-looking clothes when he comes back to the apartment after a long day, and by his bed hair when he shuffles into the kitchen in the morning. They don't spend every moment together, but sometimes they'll catch an episode of The Simpsons, play some Call of Duty, or do joint Skype sessions with Scott. 

Stiles often catches Derek looking at him weirdly, like he is doing right now, in fact.

"Why the face?" Stiles asks, pausing in his highlighting of the chapter he was reading in 'The Practice of Research in Criminology & Criminal Justice'.

"I don't have a face," Derek says, pouring himself a glass of water.

"You do. It's halfway between constipated and confused."

Derek snorts-laughs. "Yeah, right. Well I guess I'm a bit surprised that you're studying at 10 pm on a Friday night."

"Surprised I'm studying? Well I'm flattered my genius seems one hundred percent natural, but unfortunately, this shit doesn't learn itself," Stiles says, tapping his 500 page thick manual.

"I'm just saying that, I'm sure there are at least five parties you could be at right now," Derek says. 

Stiles shrugs. "Well sure, I've seen flyers. A guy in Ethics even invited me -"

"There you go," Derek says with a gesture. "You should go, make friends, have a good time."

"But… you said one of the conditions was no party!"

"That's not what I said at all!"

"You did!"

"You're wrong, but what I'm saying now is that you should go out," Derek insists. "Live a little. Experience that part of college, not just the school work."

"But I'm perfectly fine with this!" And it's true. But wait a minute. "Are you trying to get me out? Am I cramping your style?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "No! I'm not expecting anyone. I'm just saying you could be out there, meeting interesting people."

"Nah," Stiles says. "I can't see going to a party by myself, I'd end up looking like a reject. Maybe when I get to know some people in class."

"I could go and stay until you find someone you know," Derek says. 

The offer genuinely surprises Stiles. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Sure. What do you say?"

"Right now?"

"Why not?"

"Okay then, I'll go change."

***

The place Thomas from Ethics told Stiles about is _packed_. While Stiles doesn’t quite know where to go when he gets there, Derek strolls in and the crowd parts before him like the Red Sea. He leads them to the kitchen and gets them a red cup full of beer each. Then they find a spot that isn't overcrowded near the living room's entrance. The music is loud but good, and dozens of people are dancing in the middle of the room, having a blast. Stiles is so glad to have Derek with him because he doesn't know a soul, or at least hasn't seen anyone familiar yet. Stiles isn't shy, but he'd always had Scott before, and he'd never realized how much of a safety net it was. 

It's obvious that Derek is attracting attention; Stiles can clearly see girls (and guys) not so discreetly checking him out. And who can blame them? He's easily the most gorgeous person in the house, and Stiles rapidly realizes that hanging with the hottie gives him points by association (and a couple of jealous stares). Derek's leaning into Stiles to make cutting remarks about the students who are already starting to make fools of themselves while Stiles laughs and laughs. It makes Derek smile widely, which is frankly, the most beautiful sight ever. He's so screwed.

"Look who the cat dragged in..." 

Stiles turns to see a beautiful brunette with green eyes who steps up to Derek, immediately going for a kiss on the cheek. She's drop dead gorgeous, extra confident, and has a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells Stiles she must be trouble of the best kind. 

Derek is obviously pleased to see her. 

"Hey, Marika," he says, easily returning the embrace. "Don't tell me you're on the hunt for unsuspecting freshmen?"

Marika laughs. "You're one to talk, Hale." She looks at Stiles, gives him a _thorough_ once over, then turns back to Derek with a smirk. "You definitely have a type, my friend. Too bad it's not me."

Stiles blinks - did she imply he's Derek's type? - but Derek rolls his eyes. 

"Shut up, Jones. This is Stiles, a friend from back home, my roommate, and completely off-limits. Stiles, meet Marika, the terror of SFSU." 

"Off-limits? But he's so cute!" Marika fake pouts. 

"He doesn't need to start college with a broken heart, so yeah," Derek says. 

"I'd say, that's my decision to make, right?" Stiles interrupts with a smile, taking her hand to give her fingers a kiss, which makes her laugh delightfully. "Very pleased to meet you, Marika. Don't be intimidated by Derek; he's all growl and no bite."

"Does that mean your heart is free to take?" Marika replies, teasing right back and linking an arm with his. She really is gorgeous, and not a year ago having her attention would have made his stomach swoop.

Stiles can't help but to look at Derek, who's taking a sip of his beer, eyes on them. 

"I guess so," Stiles says, and he wonders if Derek heard the lie over the pound of the base.

Marika takes it on herself to introduce Stiles to the so-called fun crowd, saying that Derek would know nothing about that. She doesn't flirt with him, though, at least not in a way that would indicate she's interested for real. It's for the best, though, because there's no way Stiles would hold a girl like that for long (or at all). She's fun, sharp as a whip, and Stiles immediately understands why she's friends with Derek. An hour or so later, after asking Stiles if he's going to be okay, Derek leaves the party. 

Things gets blurry after that, the red cups multiplying, but Stiles has a good time. Later he finds Thomas from Ethics on the terrace, and their budding friendship solidifies a little more. It's a very good night. Stiles wishes Derek would have stayed, though; it would have made it even better.

***

On Wednesdays, Stiles' first class doesn't start until mid-morning. Nonetheless he wakes at five thirty as usual, cursing his internal clock. No amount of tossing and turning will allow him to sleep for his extra hours, so he gets up with the idea to salvage his morning with pancakes. He's checking if he's attained the perfect golden brown to flip the ones currently cooking when Derek shuffles into the kitchen. It's been a surprise to discover he's definitely not a morning person, barely awake until his second cup of coffee. Instead of going straight for the coffee pot as usual, Derek comes up behind Stiles, hooks his chin over his shoulder to look at the pan, an arm going around Stiles' waist.

"That smells delicious," he says softly, barely awake from the look of things. He nuzzles Stiles neck, too, with a happy little huff.

Stiles won't lie; he's quietly freaking out because being cuddled by a sleepy Derek is not something he is ready for. He can't help but tense, and it's like a switch has been flipped, and Derek goes from almost sleepwalking to totally awake, stumbling back. Since there's no need to waste perfectly good pancakes, Stiles flips the ones in front of him. They are perfect.

"Thank you, it won't take long now," he says, pointing to the plate where he already has half a dozen of them stacked. He finds it impossible to turn and look at Derek. Maybe if they pretend nothing happened, the tension in the room will disappear.

"Sorry about that," Derek says. "I can explain. It's just that Adam -"

Stiles raises his spatula. "Stop right now. I don't want to hear about how you've just mistaken me for your ex, okay? Thank you."

Derek makes a frustrating huff. "Adam's not… Okay, fine, we used to fuck. But that's it, he never was my boyfriend. He might have deluded himself about it, but it was never serious."

Stiles finishes his pancakes, puts them on the stack, and turned the knob to off. Only then does he turn to look at Derek, who's standing with his arms crossed defensively over his chest, eyes on the ground. He looks tenser than Allison's crossbows.

"Would you have told me if you'd found someone you really liked?" Stiles asks, resisting the pull to mirror Derek's position. He leans against the counter instead, still gripping his spatula.

Derek nods. "Yes. Of course. But I can't see that happening, so."

"Why not? I know you've had shitty relationships, but you'll find someone great one day, I'm sure of that." Derek is way too much of a catch to stay single forever, if he gives himself a chance.

"It's not the same for werewolves, Stiles," Derek says with a sigh. "If you do find the one, that's it. No one else will be good enough. I've made peace with that; it's okay."

"What, you've met the love of your life?"

Derek nods, still not looking at him.

"Yeah."

He looks so dejected, Stiles' stomach drops. Oh, shit, it must have been Paige. And now she's dead and Derek has given up on love. Wonderful.

"Well, that sucks!" Stiles says, throwing the damn spatula in the sink. "That's so unfair! And what if other people fall in love with you? And would be good for you and love you with all of their hearts? Werewolf biology sucks if you're stuck in limbo once your one true love is dead!"

Derek looks up, looking confused. "Dead?"

Not Paige, it seems. But then it makes so sense.

"What else short of death would stop you?"

"Lots of things," Derek says, pulling a chair to sit down. "Not being good enough for them. Not wanting to impose my fucked up biological drive on someone who has free will about love, as it should be."

Stiles walks to Derek and forces him to look up by cupping his face.

"Derek, you listen to me." Derek does look back, eyes wide as saucers. Stiles continues with feeling, "You are a good person and you deserve nice things. Love most of all. Anyone would be more than lucky to have someone like you, okay? If they're worth your eternal love, then they should have a say about it if they wish to get into a relationship with you or not. Those reasons are unacceptable." 

Derek's eyes are scanning his face intently, but Stiles knows that there isn't one single lie in what he said. Derek then squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath.

"Okay, then, here's another reason," Derek says, intent. "I don't want to lose my best friend."

The surprise makes Stiles let his hand drop from Derek's cheek. What is there to say to that? And who the fuck could that be? Derek just met Marika months ago, she can't be his best friend yet, right?

"See?" Derek sneers, immediately defensive and starting to get up. "I knew I should have kept my big mouth shut, dammit."

Before he can run off, Stiles pushes on Derek's shoulders until he's back in the chair. 

"Wait wait wait," Stiles says, trying to process information in a way to have this situation make sense, because it sounds as if Derek is talking about _him_. "I don't understand. You're not making any sense."

"I know you're not stupid, Stiles," Derek says instead of explaining himself. 

"I'm your best friend?" Stiles ask, extremely pleased to learn that.

Derek looks unimpressed. "Yes, Stiles. You're my best friend. I don't know why you're surprised by that. But that's what you got from this conversation? Seriously?"

True, that's not the best news Stiles had this morning, far from it.

"I'm your one true love?" he asks, starting to smile.

The tip of Derek's ears are turning crimson, it's adorable. He nods. "I think the universe decided to play a big cosmic joke on me, but yes."

It would be almost insulting if it didn't come out so fond. Stiles laughs and straddles Derek on the chair, plopping down on his lap with his arms around his neck.

"I approve of the universe's sense of humor," Stiles says, unable to stop grinning. "I might not have the werewolf radar to confirm it, but I'm pretty certain you're my one true love, too, Derek Hale."

Slowly but surely, Derek is starting to smile too. "Yeah?"

Stiles nods. "Uh huh. Why do you think I freaked out when you left? And then did nothing short of twisting your arm to live here? I was not subtle at all. I am disappointed you didn't realize the interest was mutual, you idiot."

"Oh, I knew you wanted in my bed," Derek says, pulling Stiles closer before nosing a path up his neck that sends shivers all over. "That was pretty hard to miss with the pheromones. But I couldn't risk being just a fuck buddy for a while and then losing you. The love part is news to me."

"Not to me," Stiles says softly, before closing the distance to Derek's mouth for a kiss. 

Stiles hasn't kissed that many people in his life, but with Derek it feels right in a way he's never experienced before. As for Derek, he kisses as if he's been starving for it, all quiet intensity and focus. He groans when Stiles tangles his fingers in his hair, and it doesn't take long for them to have to reluctantly stop because they're breathless.

"Jesus H. Christ," Stiles says, panting against Derek's lips. "You're going to ruin me for all others."

Derek smiles at that. "Good. Because... Are you sure? You've got to be sure, we can wait until…"

"I'm sure." Stiles kisses him again. It's proving to be quite addictive. 

"I am so, so sure," he adds, minutes later, as they have to part for breath again. "When did you know?" he asks, bending his head to kiss at Derek's neck. He grins at the way Derek easily bares his throat. 

"Knew you wanted me?" Derek asks, hands sneaking under Stiles' shirt.

"Knew I was your mate," Stiles corrects. 

"When I left Beacon Hills with Cora," Derek says. 

Which… wow. Two years ago? 

"Really?" Stiles asks, straightening up to look at Derek, who looks almost sheepish.

"Yeah. The farther I went, the surer I got. It's the main reason why I came back."

It's great to hear, in a way. But it raises even more questions.

"I don't get it," Stiles confesses. "If you came back for me, then why not make a move?"

"You were struggling with the whole darkness thing, at the time. And were sixteen," Derek says. He rubs his nose on Stiles' shoulder, which is incredibly adorable. "I am convinced you deserve better than me, so I settled for just staying around, making sure you were okay."

"But you did leave, in the end," Stiles says. 

Derek sighs. "Yeah, because it was getting too hard to be so close but not have you. I'd make myself sick when you started to see someone, even though I kept pretending that's what I wanted to for you. I was a mess."

"If I'd known-"

"I couldn't do that to you," Derek interrupts. "And coming here was good, for me. I never got you out of my head, but I could function again. I love what I do. I panicked a bit when you decided to enroll in SFSU."

"Yet, you let me live here," Stiles says, feeling a tad guilty. 

"I don't regret it," Derek says. "I've loved the last few weeks, how easy we fit. It was close enough to what I wanted. Earlier, I didn't take you for Adam at all. I wasn't totally awake and I forgot we weren't together. One thing, though: introducing you to Marika? That drove me nuts."

Stiles laughs. "Marika? Man, the only reason I was interesting to her is because she wanted to learn more about you. Though she's pretty awesome, I'll admit."

"She sure is. I'm-" Derek pauses, then clears his throat. "She reminds me of Erica a lot."

"I can see that, yeah," Stiles agrees. "When we were at the party, she said I was your type, does that mean-"

Derek groans with embarrassment, hides his face in Stiles' neck. "Can we forget about that? Please?" 

It means Derek would chose guys to fuck because they looked like him, right? At least that's his interpretation. Maybe he should be bothered by it, but mostly he's flattered and quite amused.

"How did that work for you?" Stiles pushes, though it's said playfully so Derek knows he's not upset.

"Not well," Derek says, looking back at Stiles. "More frustrating than anything, really. It was a terrible idea."

"I guess you'll have to try the real deal," Stiles says, gesturing at himself. "Though I'd hate to disappoint your high expectations."

"That seems very unlikely," Derek says with a smile before leaning in for a kiss again. 

The kiss quickly goes from playful to dirty when Derek drags Stiles' higher on his lap in a position that makes it doable for Stiles to grind their erections together. He likes how Derek's breath hitches, so he does it again. The sparks of pleasure shoot up Stiles' spine, and the need for more is building fast. 

"How about more than kissing? For science," he suggests. 

"Yeah?" Derek asks, mouthing at Stiles' throat, holding him close with an arm around his waist. He's moving his hips with definite interest, a slow roll in counterpoint to Stiles'. "Hang on."

Making it look as easy as breathing - it probably is - Derek stands up, still holding Stiles. Arms around Derek's neck, Stiles hooks his legs around his waist too.

"Ohhh, a show of strength, I like it," Stiles teases.

"I can think of one or two things that you might like, too," Derek says with a predatory grin, carrying Stiles towards the bedrooms. 

"I'm a simple man, easy to please," Stiles says, happy to see the banter is alive and well even in this. 

"It won't take much for me," Derek admits. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"No, but let's find out," Stiles says, laughing when Derek throws him down on his bed. When Derek whips off his t-shirt and starts losing the pajama pants, Stiles stops laughing and gets to work on getting naked too. Derek is faster and soon helping out, tugging hard on Stiles' sleep pants as if they personally offend him.

"Hey, watch out, these are my favorites," Stiles says.  
  
"They are obscene, and I've wanted to rip them to shreds for weeks, so consider yourself lucky," Derek says, throwing them off the bed. 

He climbs on top of Stiles, eyes going everywhere as he makes long caresses up Stiles' sides, shoulders, and coming back down his chest. In return, Stiles touches those sinful shoulders and arms, marveling at the softness of Derek's skin. No daydreaming could prepare Stiles for the way he feels when Derek finally stretches down on top of him for more kisses. Their bare skin touching from practically head to toe makes Stiles lightheaded, especially when they start to move against each other. He should want to drag this out, maybe flip Derek in order to worship every single inch of his glorious body, suck his cock (he really, really wants to try that), but all that Stiles manages to do is to grab Derek's ass and make sure their hips stay as close together as possible as their dicks align and rub, friction barely helped by sweat and pre-come.

"Stiles, god," Derek pants against his mouth before kissing him deep and forceful again, like he needs that more than air.

Giving back as good as he gets, Stiles is humping up almost ungracefully now, so close to getting off. He keens in the back of his throat when Derek's rhythm starts to get irregular; just knowing Derek's getting close, too, does the trick and Stiles throws his head back with a groan as he comes and comes. It sends Derek in a near frenzy, the slide of his dick as they grind together made easier with Stiles' release.

"Yes, fuck, Stiles…" Derek breathes out.

Stiles, who's barely coming down from his high, squeezes Derek's ass some more and, feeling bold, stretches a finger between his cheeks. At the barest touch of his hole, Derek comes like a bottle rocket, his whole body seizing for several seconds when he's not even breathing anymore. Not long after that he slumps down on Stiles, panting. He rolls easily on his side when Stiles pushes him a bit to be able to breathe, though Derek immediately hauls Stiles closer by taking him into his arms.

"Cuddly!" Stiles remarks cheerfully. God, he feels great. This is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Derek hums his agreement and leans in for a soft kiss. When he pulls back, the pure happiness on Derek's face takes Stiles' breath away, and he vows to do everything in his power to see that expression every day. He has no idea if what he feels is halfway as visible, but Derek delicately traces the contour of his face and his mouth with gentle fingers, then gives little pecks on his mouth, nose, and forehead before tucking Stiles close, a cheek on his chest. They should clean up a little, but Derek doesn't seem annoyed by the stickiness, and Stiles doesn't feel like getting up. 

"Does sex make you even less talkative?" Stiles asks. 

He expects a reply about how unsurprisingly Stiles never stops babbling, but Derek just hums again, locking his arms around Stiles, nose in his hair. There are more soft kisses on his head, utterly endearing, and Derek's breathing slowly evens out.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" Stiles asks after a couple of minutes of deep peace and content, amused at how easily Derek is conking out.

"You're o'me," Derek mumbles, and then pats his back lightly. "Nap now."

"Then more sex?" Stiles asks.

"Lots," Derek agrees. 

Stiles hums and relaxes at his turn, letting the endorphins still coursing through his body work their magic. A lot twirls through his mind, especially about being Derek's mate and what that means, wondering how the pack and his Dad will take the news and how Stiles still needs to think about school even though all he wants is to stay in bed with Derek for the foreseeable future. They'll manage, though, of that Stiles is absolutely convinced. Even at first, when they were nothing to each other, they always worked extremely well together. 

He thinks about his conversation with Lydia all of those years ago, about orange and blue, and how two people who nobody ever thought would be together ever could unexpectedly turn out to be a good match.

Against all odds, it looks like he's found his perfect combination with a hot werewolf, riddled with issues, but hiding a heart of gold. It feels good, it feels right. 

Heck, they even have pancakes waiting for them later, give or take a little stint in the microwave. What's not to love?

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to bluelittlegirl for the beta job! <3
> 
> this fic was written for Nightfog through Dedicatemas (and, by the way, thank you Tash for everything! *smooches*) 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed =D
> 
>  
> 
> (As a FYI I'm [on Tumblr](http://www.mariloucoco.tumblr.com), new friends and asks are welcome!)


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